


The Truth of Freedom

by axel_prple



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Death, F/M, GOT7 - Freeform, Godlings, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Healers, Immortality, Lightning - Freeform, M/M, Orginal Characters, Possible smut, Sirens, Superpowers, Tattoo symbolism, Telekinesis, Vixx - Freeform, bts - Freeform, don't get attached to my characters, enemies to lovers trope, i'll add tags as i go, major sadness warning, plot idea from BTS ON mv, too many tags, used to be a ff but decided to make it into a novel, warriors - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:02:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28496505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/axel_prple/pseuds/axel_prple
Summary: A young prince raised to be his father's heir and personal assassin is tasked to find the new vigilante in the country. All he wants is his father's approval, but on his journey the young prince will be forced to choose a side. Even if that means turning against his father.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This used to be a vkook fanfic I was going to write but then I decided to actually turn this into a novel. You will notice some similar characteristics from my characters as some but they are original characters of my own. Please no copying and publishing on other sites. I will be uploading this to a few other sites. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

He slammed down yet another tankard, letting out a satisfied groan. This pub was one of a kind, and he had been lucky to find it compared with the many others he had been to before. He had been traveling for a few days now and couldn’t wait to get into an actual bed for a night or two. While the traveling had been lonely and uneventful, the newcomer wanted to keep it that way. Nothing good ever came out of trying to create some sort of excitement in one’s life. The stranger threw another copper piece on the bar top and didn’t have to wait long before the tankard was filled yet again. The man smiled to himself and was about to take a sip when a shout from the outside drew the man out of his thoughts.

“You good fer nothin’ whore!” a loud thud, almost like a kick had been delivered, followed the shout and there was a sound like a small girl releasing a choked scream. A few other patrons in the pub turned their heads to the noises but paid very little interest and turned back to their drinks and conversations. Another scream was heard, this one sounding more distressed than the last. The newcomer sighed and slowly shook his head as he lowered his tankard. Standing up and pushing his stool away, the man pulled the cowl of his cloak tighter around his head as he turned around, and walked out the door. Immediately enveloped in the cool embrace of darkness, the stranger was met with the sight of a fat old man dragging a small child by her long golden hair towards a shabby looking inn as the child screamed and thrashed wildly. The small girl was lashing out with her arms and legs, trying to hit anything and cause the pressure on her head to be released.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” the stranger told the old man as he took a step towards the pair.

“And who are ye ta question my business?” the old man shouted back, still dragging the child to the rundown inn. All the while ignoring the whimpers and small sobs that escaped the poor child.

The stranger sighed again and took off his gloves and stuck them in a pocket, “I warned you.”

Little strands of energy, almost like miniature lightning, began to dance between the revealed fingers, and a slight glow coming from his neck.

“What are ye?” The old man sputtered, dropping the child’s hair in shock and tripping over his own feet as he scrambled back in a hurry to get away from the advancing stranger.

The man said nothing. He just kept walking forward in a slow and calm, but strong, demeanor as the dancing strands grew ever bigger. Soon the strands of energy were connecting with the ground and objects near the newcomer as he walked, causing sparks to fly as it made contact with the ground and objects around, seeming as if ripples of sound were coming from each strike because of the concentrated power. It was almost as if the energy itself was creating thunder, but on a much smaller level. The light continued to grow until it seemed as if the moon had come to visit the small town itself. Neither man noticed the child quickly scramble away into a nearby alleyway or take notice of the small crowd gathering on the street around the two as the staring contest began to show signs of hostility.

Trembling, the old man tried to walk backwards and away from the stranger. Not seeing where he was going, the old man tripped and fell onto his back. Not even attempting to stand up, the scared man just scrambled backwards as best as he could in a frightened attempt to put some distance between himself and the stranger, who’s energy seemed to be growing at an alarming rate.

The amount of energy coming out of this person was immense, greater than any godling this small town had ever seen. The energy was so strong it was beginning to create a magnetic force field and pull small metal objects towards the strands of electricity striking and dancing off the stranger. Small screws, nails, loose change, keys, and more, flew towards the godling, but never striking him. Even the little nick nacks, like small coins, in the old man’s pockets began to fly towards the godling.

The distance between the two already had begun to shrink and soon the godling was close enough to touch the old man. He crouched down in front of the terrified man and grabbed the poor man’s jacket. With a small grin the godling hauled the old man to his feet. Speaking in a low, but deadly calm, voice the stranger said, “Next time you think about hurting a helpless child-” he shoved the old man back onto the ground who was still trembling and had begun to gasp like a fish, “- think about what I’m going to do to you.”

"I'm sorry.” the old man pleaded as he scrambled onto his knees to beg for mercy.

“You will be after I'm done with you.”

The godling stepped back and raised his arms to the sky as he looked up. Bolts of lightning shot down from the now cloudy sky and seemed as though the stranger was absorbing each bolt as it came. As suddenly as it had begun it stopped. Now the godling was hunched over, appearing as though he was in pain, and fell to the ground onto his hands and knees. Pure white light was now emanating from the godling as he began to glow, the area around his neck looking like pure energy, as he stood up straight and looked in the direction of the old man. It was as if he hadn’t been on the ground just moments before. The godling stood there calmly, not a single part of him trembled from the power he held inside of him.

How this godling could command such power baffled and terrified many of those who saw him. The godling’s hood was off and was shifting around like the rest of the cloak because of the energy coming from his body and giving everyone a view of the stranger’s face. Many were surprised when they saw a younger man, no older than twenty-four, with a sharp jawline and prominent nose. But that wasn’t the most shocking aspect. The few who were close enough saw something almost indescribable. Many have said over the years that the eyes of a mortal are the window into their very soul, and for this man, they revealed only boredom and an ever so slight sliver of rage. Those dark grey eyes looked as though the lightning was jumping around inside and gave his eyes a soft glow. The crowd collectively held their breath as the godling raised an arm level to the old man’s chest, almost as if in boredom because of his relaxed stance, and pointed two fingers.

The old man’s eyes widened in shock and immediately threw up his arms in front of his face in a weak attempt to protect himself as he saw the fingers were pointing towards him. Time seemed to stop as a bright light slowly spread from the godling’s fingers in a line straight up into the night sky and enveloped the street and the buildings surrounding them in pure light. Time caught up as the light quickly retracted, but what followed was nothing that anyone could ever expect or imagine. A loud explosion of sound sent shockwaves out from where the stranger stood. A sound louder than any thunderbolt that had been heard before in this small village. It was deafening and many people collapsed immediately because of the pressure. Almost everyone was on the ground holding their ears or shaking their heads trying to clear the ringing and dizziness that had struck them.

Unbeknownst to everyone who had gathered, the godling calmly lowered his arm and dusted off his clothes, and pulled up his cowl in the process. Passing a few townspeople laying on the ground in shock, the stranger looked around before walking into the nearby alleyway where the child had been. He glanced around until he found the child. The godling quickly walked to the now unconscious child that had been hiding behind some dumpsters and picked her up in his arms. Turning around the man saw that a few people were coming too. Thinking quickly, the godling created a thick fog that crept in around everyone’s ankles but was a man’s height by the time the godling walked out of the alleyway and into the night.


	2. Chapter 1

The King stared down at the reports in his hands. A waiting servant in the corner watched on to see if there was anything they could do to be of service. She watched the King set the papers down and rest his head in his hands. “Fetch me my son.” 

The servant almost jumped in surprise, she didn’t expect the King to actually request of her, “Yes sir, right away sir.” She turned and walked out of the study and outside to the training fields where she knew the Crown Prince would be.   
\---------  
Rhys, Crown Prince and the King’s personal killing machine, swung the sword with ease and a strength that showed hours upon hours of practice. Each time the swords of the two opponents met a loud crash could be heard around the practice fields. The Crown Prince spun, parried, and attacked with almost flawless and controlled movements. His opponent was barely meeting the attacks with his own sword, soon enough he didn’t even have a sword. With a simple but effective twist of his wrist, the Crown Prince knocked his opponent’s sword out of his hand and leveled his own sword at the poor guy’s throat. 

The courtyard erupted into cheering and clapping, and as if on cue, the Prince smiled. His nose scrunched up and almost looked like an adorable bunny who had just received a present. “Admit it, Caelan.” He lowered his sword, “I am better than you.”

The defeated man gave a small grin, “I guess so… but you’ll still be my little bunny.” Caelan quickly steps closer to the Prince and slung an arm around his shoulders. The taller male then loops his arm around Rhys’s neck and puts him in a chokehold, “but can you get out of this?” Rhys grabbed the arm around his throat and tried to throw his attacker over his shoulder, laughing the whole time. Caelan only stuck a leg between Rhys’s and pushed forward, “Now who’s gonna admit what?”   
Rhys tried to form an answer but couldn’t because he was laughing so hard that he was almost wheezing. 

“Your Highness!” a shout came from the edge of the courtyard. 

The two stood up and let go of each other immediately. Straightening their tunics and brushing off excess dirt. Caelan nudged Rhys forward with an arm. Throwing a look back at his friend before replying, “Yes, does my father need me?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” the maid looked at the ground, “It seems urgent and very grim, sir.” The maid curtsied and turned, going back inside the castle to resume her chores. 

Rhys sighed and looked at Caelan with puppy eyes, or should we say bunny eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. Go to your father.” Caelan shoved the Prince a little harder this time. “Don’t forget to smile.” 

Rhys turned around and lightly punched Caelan on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” Another quick bunny smile, the prince was gone. 

Walking through the halls, the Crown Prince wondered what could be so important that his father would need him for. Another assassination perhaps, or a spy mission. He hoped it was the latter, killing never set too well with him, but he did what his King asked him to do because the King knew what was best and wasn’t to be argued with. 

\--------

When he reached the door to the King’s study, Rhys lifted an arm to knock but hesitated slightly before he gave in and knocked lightly on the door.  
“Come in.”

Rhys turned the handle and walked in. The King was sitting at his desk holding some papers in front of him. “Can you imagine why I called you here?”  
“I have a few guesses, sir.” Rhys answered truthfully as he stood at attention in front of his father. A stance perfected from many years of practice and discipline. 

The King looked up from his papers at his son, “You don’t need to stand there. Come, have a seat.” He shuffled the papers before laying them down and folding his hands together. The King leaned forward on his elbows, “This assignment is of the greatest importance and secrecy. Are we clear?”

Rhys crossed his legs and leaned back into his chair, “Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Good. These papers I have on my desk-” he gestures quickly before relocking his fingers together, “-are reports of thornscars.”

“Thornscars?” Rhys sat straight up in his seat, “But those haven’t been seen for many years.” Rhys had heard of the rumoured thornscars from the Old War. He had been a young boy during it all, barely twelve years old at the time, but he had stories from the soldiers that had made it back from the battle front of the huge black scorch marks in the shape of thorn bushes that littered the battlefield and the bright flashes of light that would accompany those scars. 

“This is why this assignment needs to stay secret. Your task is to find Vee and bring him back to the castle. War is brewing on the horizon.” The King picked up another stack of papers off of his desk and held them out to his son. 

Rhys stood up and bowed as he accepted the papers. His eyes skimmed over the top one as he walked out. 

“Oh, and son.”

Rhys stopped, midstep. It had been a while since he heard his father call him son. 

“You can start your search here within the walls. But if he isn’t here, you will go beyond the walls.. and you will be on your own.” 

“Understood, Father.” Rhys left the room and hurried to his own so he could look over the rest of the papers. He shuffled through them as he walked and mentally marked down areas of interest. He reached his own room and aimlessly threw off his training jacket and boots. He sat down at his own desk and grabbed a feather to make marks on the things he had noticed that were of great importance. 

Rhys worked for hours. Standing and sitting down, walking around and talking to himself to try and plan the best possible way to find this, this legend. He couldn’t find another word for the mysterious man. Reports he had found were skeptical and most likely exaggerated, but the power they told was unimaginable. 

Rhys leaned out his doorway and called for a servant to fetch him Caelan. He paced while he waited for his best friend. A knock sounded from his door and he all but jumped to open it. 

“Woah, slow down there lover boy.” Caelan put up his hands in surprise and grinned. “I didn’t know you would be this excited to see me.” 

“Oh, be quiet. I need your help.” Rhys pulled the taller man into his room by his arm and shut the door behind him. “I know I can trust you with this.” Grabbing the papers from the desk and bringing them over to his own bed where Caelan was now sitting, “Father tasked it with me this afternoon.”

They sat and discussed for another hour or two, coming up with a plan of action to accomplish the task in the fastest way possible. They both migrated to the center of the bed and somehow ended up with more paper than they had started with. Maps and groups of text littered the extra papers from the both of them throwing around ideas and plans of attack.

Rhys stood up and stretched. He gave a yawn before turning back to Caelan. “I need a team gathered together by tomorrow..” Rhys paused, “Wait, what time is it?”  
“It’s not after midnight. Yet.”

“Oh, ok. Good. So as I was saying, I need a team gathered by tomorrow morning to go with me. No more than seven people. That will be enough, along with us two.” Rhys leaned over and rested his head in his hands, thinking over the plan to make sure there weren’t any flaws. 

Caelan patted his shoulder. “Don’t stay up too late thinking about this. I know you. It’ll be fine. Just get your rest and we’ll meet up in the morning to find this..what did you call him?”

“Vee Thornscar.”

“Right, him. We’ll find him easy-peasy and be back before the sun sets.”

“You’re right.” Rhys sighed, “You go get some shut eye too… and make sure you find good, trustworthy men.”

“On my honor.” Caelan mockingly swore, bringing three fingers to his temple and saluting. “You can count on me, Crown Prince.”

Rhys shoved Caelan away, “Ok enough. Enough. Just leave me some peace will you.” They both chuckled and Caelan stood up and left the room but quickly returned to remind Rhys to not stay up late and overthink things.

Rhys worked for another hour before actually washing up and getting ready for bed. Exhausted, he tugged on his sleepwear and crashed onto his bed. Deep asleep in minutes, fitfully dreaming about what could happen in the near future.


End file.
